


overtime

by dashcommaslash



Series: dizzy [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Adultery, Americans are trouble, BDSM, Bond knows Q's real name, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Genderswap, Non-Monogamy, Office Sex, Q and Bond do their jobs a bit, Voyeurism, but she's not allowed to use it, but you can imagine what's coming, butch!Bond, not much smut in the first chapter, what could possibly go wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashcommaslash/pseuds/dashcommaslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing good ever came of helping Americans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	overtime

"I'm to be M's date to some do at the American embassy," she says. 

Q frowns. "That's a job for Special Branch."

"Not in this case," says Bond. "I'm meant to look like Special Branch. But there's some other angle." 

Q's frown becomes a scowl. Another angle means, in this case, another mess. Nothing good ever came of helping Americans, and if Bond is needed, then whatever outrage will be commissioned or prevented at their little party is a favor for the cousins.

Still, she slips into the shower alongside Bond and, wrapped in one of Bond's shirts, perches on the desk to watch Bond's transformation into femme fatale. Small breasts, marked on the undersides with fresh crescent-moon bites, somehow become cleavage. Stockings, thigh holster, updo, mascara. This isn't the woman Q wants, but it isn't not, either. Bond doesn't stand or cast her eyes differently, doesn't shed her androgyny; all she needs is a few tokens to be a hot blonde in a dress, although of course in this case she's a hot blonde meant to look like an armed policewoman meant to like a hot blonde. Men won't look for what Q can read easily--the desiring hands, the strut. 

Of course, Bond uses those tools on the job, too--Q should know. 

***********************************

"Felix is a good friend," repeats Bond.

It's not Q's job to question agency policy, nor Bond's either, but Q knows misplaced trust when she sees it. "Bond," she tries again. "He _lets you shag his wife_."

"He doesn't let anyone do anything," says Bond, frowning in the mirror. "Constance does what she likes."

"He pretends not to know," says Q.

"Like I said, a good friend," says Bond. "What's your point?"

"My point is he listens," says Q.

" _You_ listen," says Bond.

Q works 18-hour days when Bond is gone and doesn't fool around with Eve much anymore--she'll be M soon enough, and that's a bit weird, isn't it--and doesn't see why she should deny herself every pleasure. So when Bond's with a woman, Q stays on comms, closes the office door, and sits quietly in the chair where Bond had her that first night. She doesn't just listen, she _records._ And while Constance Leiter's tastes strike Q as a little pedestrian for repeated enjoyment, Bond once regrettably caught her napping on the sofa with her pants unzipped and the sounds of Bond whipping the daylights out of some noisy Italian operative playing on a loop.

Q blushes, but she mumbles, "Felix Leiter shouldn't trust me either." She jumps off the desk and starts pulling on her own clothes. If someone's going to die at the U.S. Embassy tonight, she ought to be at work.

Bond comes up behind her, wraps an arm around Q's waist. One hand rests on Q's throat. "I love you, Dr. Min," she says, and Q kicks her in the shin. "I love you, quartermaster, ma'am," she amends, smirking, biting Q's neck. "I'll end it with Constance."

"We _need_ Constance," says Q. "Just be careful of American _friends_."

******

It turns out they do need Constance, who is perhaps the least dedicated cultural attaché of all time and indiscreet as blazes to boot, but extremely handy in a pinch, because she has to haul M to safety while Bond is busy shooting a Dutch industrialist in the stomach and getting thrown out a window.

 

 

 

 


End file.
